


Mixed Hair

by EndlessGloaming



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24011488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessGloaming/pseuds/EndlessGloaming
Summary: Fluff about the curious way hair colors mix on Roshar. Vignettes from innocent childhood through young courtship.
Relationships: Adolin Kholin & Renarin Kholin, Adolin Kholin & Shshshsh | Evi Kholin, Kaladin & Laral, Shallan Davar/Adolin Kholin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 39





	Mixed Hair

**Author's Note:**

> I read "put away childish things" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/5307485) by liesmyth not long before writing this, so now I have some of that as headcanon for Laral's background, particularly the stern nurse Masha and her disapproval of Laral being a tomboy.

Laral stood at the vanity, arms crossed and nose wrinkled, as Masha brushed her hair.Laral was tall enough to see her whole face and even some of her shoulders in the mirror mounted behind the vanity, but Masha still brushed her hair for her most of the time.

"Ow!" Laral flinched toward the brush, trying to make it stop pulling.

Masha straightened Laral's posture and resumed brushing. "We've got to get the tangles out, dear. This is what happens when you go play outside in the wind and the brush, climbing about on things." Masha stretched out a few strands and inspected them. "Time for a trim too."

"But I want to grow it out!" Laral pouted.

"And that's exactly what we're doing. You can't just let it all grow without trimming or the black part will wind up much longer than the blond part."

"I don't care."

"I do, and others will too. It will look messy and unbefitting a lady of your station."

Laral pouted again.

The next day, Laral went out to resume exactly the activities she had been chided for the night before, but Masha insisted on preventative measures.

Laral found Kal where she usually did midday, in the rock outcroppings half way from his house to the manor.

He narrowed his eyes at Laral, not quite at her face. "Why is your hair tied up like that?"

Laral huffed. "Masha says I get too many tangles in it."

"Tangles?"

"You know, when your hair gets knots in it, and it hurts to get them out?"

He shook his head slowly, looking confused.

"Your hair is too short for that, isn't it? But doesn't your mother's hair get tangled?"

Kal shrugged. "I see her brush it and braid it, but she's never mentioned that."

Laral narrowed her eyes. "I wonder if it doesn't tangle because it's all the same color. And all black."

Kal tilted his head to the side. "Is the blond part different, besides being blond?"

Laral nodded. "That's the part that really gets tangled. The hairs are thinner and they don't stay straight."

He walked closer to her. Leaning down to inspect her hair, he asked, "Does it feel different?"

Laral eyed him. "Yes."

"So can I feel it?"

"Ugh, fine." She tilted her head toward him.

Kal grabbed the tail of hair Masha had tied. Laral couldn't see what he was doing, but it tugged subtly through the tie.

"Huh. Yeah, the blond part is weird."

"Yeah."

***

Adolin didn't pay much attention to his hair until he started noticing girls. And then he was angry with it.

He stood at a mirror, lips pursed in concentration, using the finest comb he could find on his mother's vanity, trying to get his hair to lie straight. If he put water on it, it would stay for a little while, but but as soon as it dried, it would start going different directions again.

"So that is where my comb went!" Mother stood in his door, hands on her hips.

"Ma, how do I get the blond parts to go the same way as the black parts?"

Her expression softened. "Wait here. I have something for you." A few moments later, she returned with a small jar. Taking the lid off, she held it out to him. "This is clay. It is like crem, but it does not harden. I brought it from Iri."

Adolin looked at the jar and its mushy brown contents. "What do I do with it?"

She smiled. "If you will let your mother tend your hair, I will show you."

Might as well. He was stumped. He nodded.

And if he didn't like it, he could just wash it out, right?

Mother took the glove off her safehand--Mother never bothered covering her safehand much when they weren't out--dipped a finger into the jar, and got a small amount of the "clay." Her other hand, she dipped in the water bowl on Adolin's dresser. Then she rubbed them together, making a thin wet brown coating on her fingers and palms. She ran her hands through his hair, and miraculously, it all went the way she pushed it, smooth and straight.

She finished, and Adolin nodded. "Will it stay like this when it dries?"

Mother nodded.

Smiling, Adolin bounced on his toes. "Thanks!"

Even the clay couldn't tame Adolin's hair when it got longer. He scowled at it, pushing stray locks, only to have them spring back.

Renarin looked on, concern making his face even more serious than usual.

Adolin sighed. "I really need a haircut. I guess I could just cut some off with a dagger, but then it would be messy, and that would kind of defeat the point."

"What if you just...went with that?"

Adolin narrowed his eyes at his brother. Renarin did get some strange ideas. "What, let it be messy?"

Renarin put his hands up. Adolin could see him gathering up his words to try to explain.

"What if you made it a shape, but it wasn't just straight?"

"Like what shape?"

Renarin pressed his lips together. "It would be easier to show you."

Adolin shrugged. Might as well give him a try.

Renarin pulled up a stool and stood on it behind Adolin. He'd seen his older brother do his hair enough that he knew how to use the clay. Instead of pulling Adolin's hair into a single neat curve as Adolin had been doing the last several months, since his mom showed him this trick, Renarin made peaks and swirls, arcs and waves.

Finally, Renarin stopped. "What do you think?" His voice was timid, anxious for approval.

Fortunately, Adolin did approve. "Renarin, this is great! Where did you come up with this?"

Renarin shrugged, shy. "I didn't know it would work. I've just been thinking about shapes and textures lately."

Adolin nodded appreciatively. His brother had such a curious brilliance.

"Well, I'm going to try to do this to my own hair tomorrow, but if I can't get it right, I might need you as my hair consultant for a while."

Renarin beamed. "All right!"

Two days into the expedition to the center of the Shattered Plains, after dinner, Adolin snuck over to Shallan's carriage. She would still be studying there.

He knocked on the door, and a moment later, it opened, revealing his lovely betrothed, flashing her brilliant smile at him.

He smiled back. "Do you want some company?"

She waved him in and shut the door behind them. Papers and books covered every surface in the carriage. She looked around, then, as if resigned, gathered up papers in piles until she cleared off the seat opposite where she'd been sitting, and motioned him there.

They were alone in her carriage, no chaperone. He wasn't going to object if she didn't.

He just stared at her, suddenly feeling much less articulate. "So, um, how's the research going?"

She sighed, slumping back against the seat. Her casual unguardedness was such a pleasant change from the stiff manners of the other women of the court. It was much easier to relax around her.

"It goes, slowly, but there's just so much I want to do and so little time," Shallan said.

"So little time? Until what?"

"Until we reach the center of the Plains. I need to know what I'm looking for, and where to look for it."

"Oh." He should really say something, but his mind was frustratingly blank of anything but Shallan.

Shallan drew her lips to a line, looking just above his eyes. "How does your hair look good even after you've been out in the rain all day?"

Adolin smiled. "I'm glad you think it does. Usually I put clay in it, but the Weeping makes that kind of pointless."

"Clay? You? Champion duelist, styling your hair? And there I was, thinking it was just naturally beautiful."

Adolin chuckled and his ears warmed. "Well, the black and blond parts want to do totally different things. It's why the messy look is really the only thing that works for me. Can't keep it straight if it's more than an inch long, and forget it if I have to wear a helm."

Shallan's eyes widened. "So the different colors feel different too?"

"Of course."

"I can't believe I never thought about that." She hesitated. "Could I...feel it?"

Adolin's heart beat fractionally faster. "Sure."

Shallan hopped over to his side of the carriage, sitting right next to him. She ran her delicate fingers through his hair, fingertips along his scalp, sending a shiver through him. That was the first time she'd touched his hair, of course. He wouldn't have expected it to be a big deal, but he was ready to start happy-chittering, like an axehound getting its neck cilia stroked.

Shallan, apparently oblivious to the effect she was having on him, turned and got up on her knees on the seat, getting above him and moving his head around to get a better look at his hair. "Fascinating."

Adolin started laughing. "You never fail to surprise me."

"What? You don't find it interesting the way hair colors mix, particularly Alethi hair?"

He shrugged. "Didn't you have people with mixed hair in Vedenar?"

"A few, but mostly everyone had red hair, with some foreigners with pure black or blond. I never got a good look at any, much less felt them. Or any hair besides my own and my brothers', for that matter." She started to say something else but stopped, looking momentarily troubled. He didn't press.

"Well, you are welcome to feel my hair whenever you like."

She sat down on her heels, sideways in the carriage, facing him. She stroked his hair and her playful smile grew more affectionate. "Be careful, or I might take you up on that, Adolin Kholin."

He wanted to melt into her hand, coo, tell her how happy that idea made him. Instead, he managed to keep his posture and his composure and say, "Please do."


End file.
